


When the night wind blows...

by nichogane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 19:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nichogane/pseuds/nichogane
Summary: Shiro's first night as a living being, in a new body, and Keith's reassurance that he's still him.Behind closed eyes, Shiro saw the astral realm-Black…and swirling…and infinite.But being connected to Keith- being within him - black’s forever tarnished.





	When the night wind blows...

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be with the Keith and Krolia part, and be one story that focused on them being home, but I thought it best to have them stand separate. Different relationship feels, ya know? 
> 
> Set after their return to Earth. (Not smutty-nutty. I apologize if that's what you came for.) Onward!

_Take care of me_  
Whose side you always on  
And bring sound sleep  
The wind undoes me  
Pulls me past  
The way you hold me brings me back

_-"Inner Lover" by Land of Talk_

 

Night falls among the desert-

 

Through the windows of the wooden house they’d taken refuge in after landing. Quiet, save the soothing whispers of the night wind blowing, and howling coyote in the distant. No tech beeping, explosions bursting, or roaring of robotic lions. Just rustles of dirt, whirling along the current of the mid-summer night breeze.

 

The last thing Shiro remembers is the endless plane of swirling purples and pinks, scattered among black. Speckled with stars, mirrored in the reflective floor beneath him. He could scream into the void, and hear his echo sound for miles in different directions-

 

The place he’d spent however long in, after his fight with Zarkon stole his life.

 

The night wind kisses his cheek, chilled, invading the room through a cracked window. So bitter, Shiro jolts up out of his sleep- panting as his eyes buck open. He falls over as his body's grown heavier on his left; his head hits the headboard- unable to catch himself, so sudden- and he groans.

 

Wincing with a throb pulsating in his head, his vision blurs- into a hazy rendition of the astral realm behind closed eyes:

 

Black...and swirling...and infinite, as if he never left.

 

He has left, met with moonlight blue illuminating the wooden walls surrounding him as his eyelids flutter. Matters taken form of a dresser adjacent to the foot board at the ends of his feet, and the thin sheet resting in his lap- covering his lower half as he’s cradled in the mattress beneath him. And no longer endless nothing, but jagged mountains behind the lone tree, and motorcycle tracks travelling the dirt road visible through the open window. _This_ , he notes, closing his eyes again and taking a heavy breath, _this...this is a room._

 

It startles him that-

 

“It’s tangible,” he says, crumpling the sheet in his bare hand- the first thing he’s been able to touch and feel in an unknown amount of time. Thin, yet stiff in his grasp, the sheet rubs against his calloused palm; he has three or maybe one developed under each finger. They’re tender against the friction created, but it feels good-

 

Because this warmth, he feels, and he hears the murmurs of the rustling sheet against his palm. It’s such a small action, but means the world to him. He’s alive- _a living being_ \- and not a spirit dwelling in a void. Not wandering in the astral realm, witnessing through the Black Lion’s eyes what it is to live. Shiro grips the sheet tighter in his hand, and holds onto it dearly, keeping back tears. It’s a simple, stupid, low quality thread cloth, but it’s his life in his hands. Now- he knows- he’s made it back.

 

“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” steals him from the moment, and he jumps, unaware someone is next to him; lying there, with his shoulder pressed into the mattress under Shiro’s arm.

 

Slowly breathing with quaking grey hues, Shiro stares at this person, familiar with his pointed nose and chin. Thick and dark- although tousled- hair frames his face and extends longer down the back of his neck. And his bangs cover his forehead, and -partially- his purple, or blue...maybe blue-grey, wide eyes.

 

But his hair's frame is longer, as well the length of his figure; he’s bulked up a size or a few, Shiro notices. “K-Keith?”

 

“Yes?” Keith asks, shifting underneath Shiro’s arm, but just so he’s comfortable to still support the latter. “Hey, Shiro,” leaves rough, yet endearing from his lips.

 

“K-Keith...you’re…” Shiro stammers, fluttering his eyelids and his mouth gapes open. Thoughts rush through his head, and his heart races, overwhelmed. “Wh-wh-what happened?!” he asks, struggling to sit up, and he can’t. “Where are we? How did we get here? When..why...how are we- _you_ here?”

 

“Shiro, everything is-”

 

“What happened to you?!” Shiro interrupts, as Keith stirs to sit up, bogged down by his weight, “you’re bruised, and yo-you have a scar, are you okay? Did someone hurt you?”

 

 _Shiro, I’m fine,_ Keith tries to say, but the former rapid fires questions- frantic- and crushes Keith’s shoulder with his own.

 

“Where is Zarkon? O-or Lotor? Are we back on Earth- when did we get here?!” Shiro’s hot to touch and panting; heaving and sweating across his forehead. There’s so many questions to ask, and nothing makes sense, as he’s unable to calm and allow himself to process.

 

“Is the universe safe? Di-did we win?”

 

Thinking…

 

“What about Sendak? Or Haggar? O-or the coalition?”

 

Still thinking…

 

“Or Pidge, or Hunk, or Lance?”

 

Continues thinking...

 

“Coran and Allura, are they okay?”

 

Then the room...

 

“We’re in a house- _your_ house. Where is the castle? O-or _anything_ -”

 

Keith sits up abruptly, capturing Shiro’s lips in a kiss, and swallows questions he doesn’t want to hear; he clutches Shiro’s bicep, steadily pushing against him, to hold him up from shifted weight he isn’t used to.

 

Shiro’s mind blanks, and he’s breathless, feeling Keith’s lips pressed against his- chapped in the center of his bottom one, but still so soft.

 

“Please, calm down,” Keith says in the kiss; the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk. “And _shut...up_.”

 

 _Silence._ Keith pulls back, and looks at Shiro- ghastly, quiet, and alarmingly still. Keith uses his free hand to touch Shiro’s cheek, and delicately brushes his thumb along clammy skin. “I’m fine. You’re fine,” he says, looking directly into Shiro’s wide, grey hues, “everything…” he pauses, “is fine.”

 

Shiro gulps. His heart’s erratic, thumping in his ears: from unanswered questions and his best friend’s kiss. For so long, he was lost in the astral plane- a spirit lingering the realm in-between life and death:

 

Conscious and existing, but not physical.

 

Dazed, Shiro’s hand reaches for Keith’s arms, and his fingertips drag up slowly; the fine hairs tickle the underside of his digits. Keith flinches, as it tickles him, too, and prickles wake underneath Shiro’s touch. Keith’s skin beams warmth, strewing Shiro’s fingers as they dance-  carefully up and down his arm, pulling a tottery breath from Keith.

 

“Keith…” Shiro says light- mellow and above a whisper- and cups his hand around Keith’s wrist. Keith’s hand moves from his cheek, closer to his mouth; his lips press against the pad under his thumb. His kiss lingers, and Shiro takes a deep breath, shuddering among his exhale. “You’re here.”

 

“And so are you,” Keith says, and sighs a chuckle; his index finger strokes over Shiro’s cheekbone. “Can we lay down now?” he asks.

 

“Is this my bod-”

 

“Don’t ask another question,” is the response, and Shiro opens his eyes to Keith looking at him- sweetly, with a small smile gracing his lips.

 

“Okay.”

 

Keith’s wrist falls from Shiro’s hand, and he moves slightly for Shiro to lay down. He does the same, facing him, and pulls in close. Keith nestles into Shiro’s body, and even though he’s bigger, he’s still smaller than Shiro. His head rests against Shiro’s chest, and Shiro’s heartbeat pulses through his forehead. Still labored and erratic, but Keith sighs, appreciative of it’s a beautiful tune-

 

Shiro’s here and with him, after the brutal battle he endured to save him and almost died. Unsure of what was to become of him- _them_ \- as they fell into the hot, white sun. It wasn’t Shiro then, but a former version of Shiro rested on the backs of his eyelids, and he held on. Shiro’s essence saved him, and he saved Shiro’s essence in return. Even if this body misses one arm and is white haired, this is Shiro. Here and now is _his_ Shiro-

 

The one he vowed to save as many times as it took.

 

Words are quiet between them, but the hums of the night wind continue to call. The sound of breathing and the whirling ceiling fan blades above make enough noise. Soothed is the only word to express how Keith feels, laying still and in front of Shiro after such a long time. His skin is slick from sweating, but his warmth washes over Keith, blanketing him in comfort, because it conveys Shiro lives.

 

“Keith,” rattles in the chest connected to his head, and the vibrations rouse his insides to feel it, but discourages him from it’s penitent tone. “I tried to kill...”

 

“Shiro…” Keith interrupts him and sighs, wrapping his arm around Shiro’s waist; his hand clutches the center along Shiro’s spine, and he pulls him closer. “Just _rest_ … _please_?” he asks.

 

“But Keith,” Shiro persists, but Keith squeezes him, and he stops- even though the question plagues him to ask. He looks down into Keith’s sprawling, thick hair below his chin, wondering what expression he wears. Incredulous, Shiro is, at Keith declaring “everything is fine”, when he’s holding him close and tight, hiding himself in his chest. “Are you trying to ignore what-”

 

“Shiro, stop,” Keith says, and breathes deep- hot exhale ghosting over Shiro’s skin. “Whatever happened..” he pauses, pushes back, and lift his head- looking at Shiro in the eyes, skewered  through his bangs, “whatever happened, is what happened. And it can be let go,” he finishes, putting his cheek against Shiro’s chest.

 

Keith desperately wants Shiro to let the situation go; their meeting in the astral realm gave him clarification, but Shiro doesn’t, as he lifts Keith’s face, and pulls him up, drawing their lips together in a long peck. Shiro moans lightly into the kiss, and it rattles Keith into a shudder; his mouth opens for an audible moan to escape. And Shiro takes the opportunity to push his tongue into Keith’s mouth, and lap at Keith’s own; beckon Keith to pant wantonly, and struggle to move his arms around Shiro’s neck. Keith’s hand rests at the back of Shiro’s head, and he pushes it forward, closer to him- enclosing their mouths not allowing any breath to escape.

 

Yes, Shiro tried to kill him, but it wasn’t this Shiro he’s known for several years. Not _his_ Shiro, that, without him-

 

 _My life would have been much different._ Keith understands _that_ Shiro before wasn’t himself, but a pawn for the Galra to be used at Haggar’s malicious will- a clone. And it’s why he put his life in danger: to save him from the control, and when he couldn’t, willingly accept death alongside him in the fall.

 

Keith gripping his hair, moaning, and flush against him, Shiro wraps his only arm around Keith’s waist. Keith hasn’t left an inch of space to get closer, and he settles his hand at Keith’s lower back. His fingers claw into Keith’s skin with the latter kissing him fervently, and Shiro breathes heavy through his nose.

 

Keith’s pushed into him…

 

Bearing on him....

 

Strength intensifying with need, and suffocating him, with a want to be as close and connected as possible to the one he almost lost before.

 

Shiro wants to stop the kiss and catch his breath, but Keith’s sentiment reaches down into the depths of his core. Shiro lets his hand trail up the length of Keith’s spine, evoking a shiver from him. Rough hands- calloused, yet thoughtful in their touch- caress Keith’s back, and his skin is so smooth, vellus hairs lightly tickle the underside of Shiro’s fingers.

 

Shiro craves to touch him more- to feel Keith under his fingertips. His hand roams down and up his back a time, and the same along Keith’s arm. _He’s here,_ Shiro thinks, gripping him in certain areas that makes Keith’s back arch.

 

“You’re here,” Shiro says, as he takes Keith’s jaw in his hand, and moves his face to break the kiss. Keith looks at him- hazed and panting- and gulps down saliva collected at the back of his throat. “Keith, you’re…” Shiro starts again, marvelling the moon’s pale blue reflecting in Keith’s own blue-grey hues- brewing with unadulterated love for the man in front of him. Shiro’s captivated to kiss Keith’s jaw and up his cheek- along the scar that mars his ivory skin. It’s because of him, he remembers, when he threatened Keith’s throat with his blade; but it wasn’t him, Keith would assure, since Haggar had him under her control.

 

It makes Shiro press hard kisses into the scar, knowing what Keith endured from this receipt, and even if it doesn’t hurt, he hopes his lips are emollient from regret. “Keith,” he whispers, and rests his forehead against Keith’s cheek. “I’m…” he pauses, “sorry.”

 

 _Silence,_ save the night wind resonating within the room; gently singing it’s melodic tune through the opened window.

 

“Kei-”

 

Keith nudges Shiro to move away, and quickly pushes a kiss to Shiro’s lips before he’s pulled back too far; he throws his legs over Shiro’s, hooking behind his knee and pulls it in to keep him in place. “I told you,” he says, “it’s fine. Kiss me.”

 

 _He isn’t going to talk about it_ , Shiro concludes, and complies with Keith’s request. He lets his lids shut, and Shiro falls deep into the kiss. Shiro slides his hand down Keith’s back, past the elastic band of his boxers; it finds purchase on Keith’s lower cheek, and he grips hard. Keith moans in response, and bucks his hips, pulling a groan from Shiro, hitting his groin. It staggers in Shiro’s throat, unable to push outward in the kiss with Keith, and he settles to swallow it down, gripping Keith harder.

 

Keith whimpers as Shiro’s hand grabs his ass, and his knee increases pressure between his thighs. His pelvis tenses; he breaks the kiss and pushes himself off the bed, rolling Shiro over and straddles his lap.

 

Winded and trembling in his legs, “Shiro,” Keith starts, interrupted as the moonlight catches Shiro’s face. His ivory skin, speckled with beads of sweat, glitters in the wash of pale blue. The light reflects majestically off white tresses, reminiscent of stardust. Flush and radiant- Shiro is- it lures Keith to kiss Shiro again, and he breathes slowly- savoring  this that night brought to them.

 

Keith moves his lips to Shiro’s jaw and down his neck, and trails along his collar bone. Over his chest, down his stomach, and he rests his forehead at the band of Shiro’s boxers. Keith sits for a second, taking the moment to breathe Shiro in.

 

Yes, this isn’t Shiro’s body, but it looks and _feels_ like his, and Keith’s hands gliding Shiro’s sides provoke the smallest tremors from his touch. Sensitive to ghosting fingertips, as he’s been before, and Shiro groaning from it makes Keith smiles.

 

Keith’s hands post on Shiro’s hips; his fingers hook beneath the elastic waistband, and pull loose boxers down the length of his legs. He pauses before placing kisses in the fine, silky white hair at Shiro’s base; they brush his mouth and nose, tickling him delicately. He inhales deep, taking Shiro into his mouth, and the latter breathlessly exhales. Keith’s mouth is hot, and his tongue moist; the muscles laves the underside of him, and swirls around him, careful and slow. Shiro grips the bedsheet in his hand as Keith’s head bobs, and flinches when a light stream of the night wind touches the smallest portion Keith’s left exposed.

 

The tip of him hits the back of Keith’s throat, and the latter gags; clears his throat around Shiro, with tears assaulting his ducks. It doesn’t faze him, and he continues to pleasure Shiro, sucking and pushing him in as far as he can go. Shiro pants, hard and rough- mouth dry and vision white. His stomach tenses when Keith pulls off him, and there, the night wind blows over him once him.

 

Tremors stack in his body, and he can’t keep from shuddering, when Keith goes down on him a second time. Keith’s moans reverberate through every fiber in his being, and he holds his hips tight. And Keith chokes on him again- coughing- and his tears fall down Shiro’s thigh. Shiro hears Keith’s noises, and feels him quaking at his lower half. _He’s..._ Shiro thinks, and sits up. He lets go of the bedsheet, and holds Keith’s face in his hands; pulls him from down low and crushes their lips in another kiss.

 

“Keith,” he says, amidst the other’s breath mingling with his between their lips, “you don’t have to do this-”

 

Keith shoves his tongue into Shiro’s mouth, moaning hard, and saliva leaks from the corner of his own. He pushes Shiro back onto the mattress- doesn’t want him to move- and lays flush on top of him. Keith rubs himself against Shiro- stiff and twitching, neglected and from the friction. The kiss is sloppy, as Keith is enveloped and burdened with an unyielding need for Shiro, and his heart promises to burst from his chest. His tongue steals across Shiro’s bottom lip, before he bites and sucks it between his teeth. Shiro’s head throws back into the pillow, and his breath is strangled in his throat:

 

From Keith and his abounding affection towards him.

 

“I want to be closer to you,” Keith says, leaning forward, and gives Shiro another quick kiss. Keith brings two fingers between their lips, sticks them in his mouth, and suckles around them.

 

Shiro nods, and pulls one side of Keith’s boxers off his hip.  “I can’t get the other side,” he says, and Keith chuckles, shifting for that side to fall down.

 

Fingers coated in saliva, Keith pushes them into himself, letting sighs escape his lips as his digits moves. His eyes close the deeper he pushes in, striking his sensitive spot, and he whimpers. Keith pants, and expands his fingers, holding himself up on a quivering arm; gripping the pillow beneath Shiro’s head in his hand. His brows furrow, and he bites his bottom as his knees quake- thinking of Shiro, and his presence, and wanting to be closer to him.

 

Shiro gazes at Keith, pain stricken for his current state:

 

Wounded, debilitated, having to watch Keith get off on his own. And he could help, but Keith won’t let him, because of all he’s gone through.

 

Shiros settles to touch Keith’s shoulder, and rubs gently at the bruise formed in his skin. Keith winces from the contact, and opens his eyes to see Shiro’s grey hues: something apologetic and broken reading in them. Keith huffs while stroking, but Shiro’s expression stings more than the third finger he added. He turns his face to kiss Shiro’s wrist and lets it linger there. His teeth nip Shiro’s wrist, when his finger hit those nerves again, and he moans on the back of Shiro’s hand.

 

“I think I’m ready,” Keith says, and backs away from Shiro’s touch; he lowers himself onto Shiro- heat dull and rushing in the small of his back. He braces himself- his arms shake- and hilts himself at Shiro’s base; stars flash- brightly and scattered- in his vision from the intrusion.

 

Shiro gasps. Keith’s sweltering- excruciatingly tight around him and clenching, unrelaxed. This isn’t the first time, but the time that’s passed is forgotten and unknown. Keith totters in his movements, and struggles to breath with Shiro in him- long, thick, and feeling as though he’s tearing into him. But he doesn’t stop, moving as slow as he needs for comfort, not wanting to let this slip from his grasp-

 

He’s missed Shiro, _so...fucking...much_ , and there’s two years, he knows, they’ll never get back.

 

Keith leans forward, for his head to cradle in-between Shiro’s head and shoulder. His chest heaving, body profuse with sweat, Keith continues to move pressed against Shiro. The remnant of a metal arm graces him through slick bangs, and Keith kisses it, tenderly.

 

“I love you, Shiro,” he says, and Shiro brings his legs up to push Keith higher on him-

 

For Keith’s tresses to await a press of his lips into them. For him to breathe in Keith’s scent, and intoxicate him to a high state.

 

Shiro places his hand in the center of Keith’s back, and holds him- possessive and so, damn close.

 

Behind closed eyes, Shiro saw the astral realm-

 

Black...and swirling...and infinite.

 

But being connected to Keith - being _within_ him - black’s forever tarnished, with a long stroke of red painted amidst the center. And the abyss is no longer empty, with Keith standing beside him. And there’s a light shining along the horizon of the infinite realm- parting the black, purple, and pink swirls, in-between.

 

“Keith...” Shiro trails, holding his life and his love in his hand.

 

Through the open window, the night wind blows, carrying the profession along the current of its’ beautiful song. _I love you._

 

/End

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading, and feel free to leave a comment. Until next time. ♥


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